Josette en rosé

The last lesson finished at 6 o'clock.  It wasn't even worth the effort.  The school days start too early and end too late.
Madeleine's theory is that there is no perfect moment to be at school.  Between 8 and 10 you're just waking up.  Between 10 and 12 you're hungry.  Between 14h and 16h you're digesting and from 16h to 18h you're tired.  
It's a marathon at the best of times, but this is the last week of the half term and it feels as if another 10 miles have been added.
I drove Madeleine back at the end of our lessons.  I needed a gin at #10 and for Emma to help me do all the stuff that needs to be done when you have to get on a plane and go anywhere.
I'd forgotten that I'd invited Josette for an apéro.  
Emma told her that a child had thrown up over me and I was having a shower and she was washing my clothes.  It was a garbled and fictitious story and Josette rightly wouldn't swallow it.  
She waited outside the door with her hands on her hips and a bottle of rosé at her feet and was there an hour later.
My heart folded and I followed her back to her house.  We opened the rosé and sat amongst the grease and the piles and piles of stuff.